


Passage to Alderaan

by mistr3ssquickly



Category: Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Good clean fun, M/M, happy valentine's day, i'm not even sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-18 19:50:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13688607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistr3ssquickly/pseuds/mistr3ssquickly
Summary: A reimagining of how Han and Luke first met in Mos Eisely.





	Passage to Alderaan

Han’s sweltering in the relative cool offered by the thick clay wall at his back, a chilled glass of the local distillate in his hand, when he sees the scuffle break out, some gutter trash threatening some clueless Outlands brat for no reason Han can figure, save that the kid's an eyesore, bright blonde hair and glaring white tunic and trousers too bright in the gloom of the criminal underbelly bleeding around him like ripped flesh around the blade of a knife. The sight of him is enough to make Han laugh, which means he's got a big ol’ smile on his face when the outlander turns to scan the room, probably looks like the only welcoming sentient there -- smiling, human, about his age. Younger than the old man he came in with, anyway. So of _course_ he makes a beeline for Han, perching awkwardly on the bench at Han's side when Han doesn’t immediately tell him to fuck off, and he wisely puts himself in a position where he can see most of the room and the exit, has a way out that doesn't involve going through Han, and since Chewie's busy at the opposite end of the cantina, talking to the old man, he might _actually_ have a chance of getting away from Han if he wants to. Which he won't, if Han has his say in things, his blood warming already as the young man looks him up and down, as subtle as the raw sunshine beating against the sands outside, shy but trying to act like he knows what he's doing, his affect of nonchalance so bad it's almost funny.

Almost. 

“I'm looking for transport off Tatooine,” the Outlands brat (Luke, he said his name was) says when Han asks if there's anything he can do for (to) him, maybe a little drunk, maybe just smart enough not to let the chance for a good one-night stand pass him by. “Discreet and as soon as possible.”

Han leers at him. “Whose bad side’d you get yourself on?” he wants to know. “Sleep with the wrong spice dealer's daughter or something?”

Luke looks at him blankly, confused for a long enough second that the way he scrunches up his face when he _does_ get it is absolutely hilarious. _“No,”_ he says. “I've never -- I'm trying to get to Alderaan. I need to deliver something to someone there, as soon as possible.”

Han finishes off the drink starting to sweat condensation onto the table's scratched duraplast surface, buying himself a second to think. Alderaan’s not a bad run, only one jump from where they are in the Outer Rim for anyone who knows what they’re doing (which Han does), but --

“It'll cost you,” he says.

Luke's face falls. “I have money,” he says, but he's hesitant, which tells Han clearly enough that he already _knows_ he doesn't have enough to buy himself a seat on the _Falcon's_ hull, let alone one inside, despite how nice Han’s pretty sure it would be to offer him a seat in his own lap.

“Ten thousand,” Han says, only half-serious, ready to be haggled into a sane price, but Luke takes him seriously, the way his heart all but _visibly_ breaks is almost more than Han can take.

“That's _ridiculous,”_ Luke informs him. “I could buy my own ship for that much.”

He couldn't, but there are bigger fish to fry than that. Like: “Yeah, and who'll fly it for you?” 

“Me.”

_“You.”_

“Yeah. I know how to fly.”

“Ever flown in hyperspace?” Han wants to know. 

Luke's face colors up. “No,” he says, “but it can't be all _that_ hard. I've read up on it, studying to sit the Imperial Academy's flight exam.”

“So do that and fly a TIE to Alderaan,” Han says.

“I don't have _time_ for that,” Luke says. “I told you, this is urgent.”

“And I ain't a charity,” Han says. He looks Luke up and down, the drink in his belly and the months he's gone with nothing but his own right hand to keep him company at night conspiring with the sun-warmed tan of Luke's skin against the clean white of his tunic, filling Han's imagination with fantasies that have him shifting on the bench, allowing his cock to stretch and swell. “Might consider takin’ a downpayment of whatever you've got now, get the rest from you on Alderaan. Guessin’ you've got some well-off contacts there you're helpin’ out?”

“A princess, actually,” Luke says.

“Sure,” Han says, not believing that for a single second. “She single?”

Luke cocks his head. “I don't know,” he says. “Why?”

Han sighs. “Because you're gonna get me a _date,”_ he says, “'less _you'd_ rather come over here and convince me this isn't the worst deal I've ever struck.”

He can actually _see_ his words sinking into Luke's mind and processing, the younger man's big blue eyes going impossibly wide for just a breath before he darts a nervous glance down to the far end of the pub where the old man's still busy with Chewie, Luke’s Adam's apple bobbing as he returns his attention to Han.

“I'm not a whore,” he says, dropping his voice like _anyone_ within earshot would even notice such a tame word.

“Nah, and I ain't lookin’ to take your ass as payment for any’a this,” Han counters, “you ain’t worth enough for that to be appealing.” He sighs when Luke has the nerve to look _offended_ at that. “I'm hittin’ on you, kid,” he clarifies. “Keepin’ business and pleasure separate whenever I can.”

Luke's quiet for a minute, long enough that Han's expecting awkward rejection when Luke opens his mouth and says, “Okay,” scooting right up to Han and pressing a single awkward kiss against his lips. “Here? Or --?”

Han laughs despite himself. “Ain't gonna lie,” he says, “the fact that you're even _askin’_ me that’s a surprise. Here's good, since you're offering. You're in a hurry to get off’a this rock, right?”

Luke nods, but he's moving close as he does, climbing with moderate grace right into Han’s lap, his trousers stretched tight over his ass when Han reaches down to grope him, pulling him in close. He isn't hard when Han moves his hand forward to investigate, but he’s not fully soft, either, doesn't shy away from the feel of Han’s fingertips fondling him as he leans down for a _much_ better kiss than the last one they shared, slow and a little awkward, but good enough, definitely not the worst Han’s ever had. Improved considerably when Luke makes a quiet sound in the back of his throat and reaches down to fumble with Han’s belt and trousers, breaking the kiss and leaning back after a few seconds so he can actually see what he’s doing, giving Han the pleasure of watching Luke unfasten his trousers and pull him out, stroking him like something out of a pornholo, the closeness of their bodies keeping him mostly concealed from the riff-raff milling around not all that far from them, probably, the exhibitionistic thrill of what they’re getting up to just as arousing as the feel of Luke’s hands on him, the sight of Luke’s cock, thick and fully hard, tight against the fabric of his trousers.

He has a bit more trouble getting Luke’s cock freed than he should, really, distracted as he is when Luke leans in close to kiss him again, stroking him lightly as he does, more of a tease than anything serious, but it’s enough to keep him from focusing on untying Luke’s trousers and reciprocating as quickly as he’d like, and where Luke doesn’t complain about it, he’s slick already when Han finally _does_ get to feel him skin-to-skin, rocking his hips up into Han’s touch like he’s interested in moving on to something more than just fondling each other. His kisses lose some of their finesse when he slides in closer and gets his cock up against Han’s, wet enough to slick the friction between them just right, what skills he had for kissing disappearing altogether in a breathless whimper when Han wraps his hand around both of them and pushes _up,_ grinding himself against Luke, the feel of it so good that he can’t really blame the guy for losing interest in kissing. Luke rests his forehead against Han’s, breathing hard as he catches on to Han’s rhythm, thrusting just right to fill Han’s imagination with conjecture of what Luke might be like as a fuck, his very being _aching_ at the thought of taking Luke back to the _Falcon_ for just that, which he’s going to do, he _has_ to, his body winding up tight with lust for the man rubbing against him and all the delicious promise he brings with him.

“Gonna make a mess’a you,” Han warns when Luke starts shaking against him, probably close to coming, and he’d be lying if he tried to convince himself that he wasn’t telling Luke how close he was in hopes that it’d push the younger man over the edge, give him the pleasure of seeing Luke climax.

Luke _whines_ and leans back, the stark white of his tunic bright in contrast the flush of his skin, clean despite the sweat gathered at the hollow of his throat, the copper-dull dust gathered on every surface across the planet. “Okay,” he breathes. “Do it.”

And Han would, Han _happily_ would, except that this isn’t that kind of story.  
  
  
  
  


_It’s a Tide ad._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Apologies  
Happy (?) Valentine’s Day! This was the first thing to come to my mind when I woke up this morning. I’d say I’m sorry, but that’d be a lie. I hope this is funny to someone other than just me.


End file.
